Mr. Zhongli, we can't slack off anymore!

"Is that so?" The traveler looked at the stragglers' instantly frozen backs; that silent moment itself had already given the answer.

"Hmph." The stragglers didn't turn around, nor did they utter another word, only letting out a short, cold nasal sound.

He walked straight to a large, leafy old tree and hid himself completely in the deep shadows, as if he had never been there.

"Hey... um..." The traveler instinctively wanted to call out to him, but the words caught in his throat.

By the way, I haven't even asked his name yet.

I remember his name, but now I must pretend I know nothing about it to avoid any complications.

Moreover, in the game, that name is something that players must personally bestow upon him after completing his legendary quest...

As an all-knowing transmigrator, what should I call him? What name did the "traveler" of this world give him?

Which name would he identify with?

The traveler hurried to catch up behind the old tree.

However, it was empty.

Only the rustling of leaves in the night wind and an even deeper darkness.

Elusive and sharp-tongued...

This character seems so familiar!

There are two of these countries!

Little Lucky Grass King...you've really worked hard.

Putting aside his doubts about the whereabouts of the stragglers, the traveler headed to the flower shop as planned.

She needed to confirm whether Hator needed help moving, in order to indirectly gauge whether the signing of the contract tomorrow would go smoothly.

Having made her goal clear, she turned to leave.

boom!

It crashed squarely into the brim of a dark blue straw hat.

Immediately afterwards, the brim of the hat was lifted slightly, revealing a pale face with a mischievous expression.

The stragglers who were supposed to have "disappeared" suddenly pulled at their lower eyelids with their index fingers, stuck out their tongues, and made an extremely childish face at her: "Here we go!"

"Whoa!" The traveler took a step back in surprise: "What...what are you doing behind me!"

“Not just a piece of wood.” The skirmisher lowered his hand, his hat brim pulled down again, obscuring most of his face, his voice carrying its usual sarcasm: “He’s also a piece of rotten wood. I’ve been following you for so long… and you didn’t even notice. You should be glad I don’t want to lay a hand on you yet.” He showed no remorse whatsoever, instead shifting all the blame onto the traveler, his tone self-righteous.

Ah.

I've evolved again. His harsh words no longer even stir a ripple on the surface of my emotions.

"...You're a fugitive..." The traveler crossed his arms, looking at him helplessly, "and you still dare to stand so openly in the street. Aren't you afraid of being caught red-handed by the patrolling disciplinary officers?"

"I'm afraid they don't have the ability." The soldier's voice came through the brim of his hat, carrying an almost arrogant indifference. After speaking, he pulled down the brim of his hat again, as if to leave again: "Let's go."

You think they won't recognize you if you pull your hat down? Your outfit is too conspicuous!

Watching his retreating figure disappear into the night, the traveler sighed helplessly again: "Never mind... I can't control you anyway."

"Wait!" she quickly added, remembering their destination, "We need to go to the flower shop first!"

The dark blue figure in front paused for a moment, followed by a muffled sound—

"Humph."

Oh, I see!

The traveler suddenly realized.

It turns out that for a creature like him, "humph" means "hmm"!

*

The sign for the flower shop "Flowers Without Fruit" was almost invisible in the night.

The stragglers seem to... actually have a bit of "social anxiety"?

He paused as he reached the flower shop, then silently disappeared back into the shadows of the building on the street corner, as if they had never walked together.

Does he really hate meeting people that much? Or... is he deliberately avoiding something?

The traveler pushed open the slightly ajar shop door and went inside.

The flower shop, which was a vibrant sea of ​​flowers during the day, now seemed rather empty. The glass vases that were once filled with colorful flowers were now bare.

Are they all sold out?

The traveler's vague premonition became incredibly clear at this moment.

It felt like Miss Hattori could completely empty this flower shop overnight, as if it had never existed.

What kind of feeling is this?

It's like encountering something you like by chance on a journey, knowing that it will eventually disappear, yet being powerless to hold onto it, ultimately leaving behind a lingering sense of melancholy.

After all... Miss Hator will leave after selling this house, right?

The shop door was open, and soft light shone from inside, but Hator was nowhere to be seen.

"Miss Hathor?" the traveler called out tentatively.

"Hmm?" A soft response came from the inner room. Hator came out from the innermost room.

She still wore that captivatingly gentle smile, but under the lamplight, the traveler could clearly see two tear tracks on her fair cheeks that had not yet completely dried.

"Miss Traveler?" She seemed a little surprised. "So late... are you here to buy flowers?"

“No…” The traveler quickly waved his hand, his gaze falling on her face with concern: “I came to ask if you need help packing and moving? And you… what’s wrong?” Her voice was very soft.

“It’s nothing…” Hator turned his head slightly, quickly wiping the corner of his eye with his fingertips. His smile was still perfect, but it carried a hint of forced vulnerability. “Please don’t worry about these little things. Rest assured, I will definitely deliver this house to you intact as promised tomorrow.”

Now that things have come to this, it would be inappropriate to ask any further questions.

The traveler suppressed his doubts and worries.

"Miss Hator," the traveler changed the subject, his tone filled with sincere blessings, "What are your plans afterward? Will you leave Sumeru City?"

Hator's gaze drifted to the deep night outside the window, her eyes somewhat vacant, yet a deeply sorrowful smile curved her lips: "Perhaps... she's with the one she loves. As for the future... what will happen, perhaps only... she can decide."

"Is that so..." The traveler's heart sank slightly.

Is it too risky to completely entrust your future to someone you "like"?

Given their current relationship, would it be too much to ask for a suggestion?

“Love…” Hator suddenly whispered, as if talking to himself, or perhaps responding to the traveler: “It is a very difficult thing.”

"Yes," the traveler nodded with deep feeling, "it really wasn't easy."

"..." Hator didn't say anything more, but gave the traveler a smile full of sorrow and tenderness.

“Miss Hathor,” the traveler couldn’t help but ask, trying to understand the enigmatic woman before him, “why…did you start a flower shop in the first place?”

I always felt that this flower shop, along with its owner, was hiding many untold stories.

"It's so that when the person I admire passes by this street, I'll have the chance to... give her a bouquet of flowers." Hathor's voice was soft, yet it was like a pebble thrown into a lake, rippling outwards.

"Is that so..." The traveler was taken aback.

So why move now?

Will the person you admire never pass by here again?

These questions almost burst out, but ultimately, it's not my place to pry into other people's secrets.

“Well… I won’t bother you any longer as you pack.” The traveler suppressed his turbulent thoughts and decided to take his leave: “See you tomorrow, Miss Hator.”

"Wait," Hator called to her, turning and going into the inner room. A moment later, she came out holding a tiny flower, its color a pure sky blue.

The traveler had never seen that flower in a flower shop before; it was more like the kind of flower that one might glimpse in the wild during a game but could never pick.

"Take this flower with you." Hator gently placed the small flower in the traveler's palm.

"Thank you." The traveler carefully accepted the strange little blue flower, feeling a cool touch on his fingertips.

“Miss Traveler,” Hator’s voice rang out again just as the traveler turned to leave, carrying a strange calmness: “I have a little riddle here. Would you like to guess it? It is said that… it has stumped many scholars of the Order of the Church.” A glint of something unfathomable flashed in her eyes.

"Oh? What is it?" The traveler became interested.

A riddle that stumps scholars? I'll write it down and use it to stump El-Heisenberg next time, hehe.

Hathor looked at her and asked clearly, word by word, "What is something that only exists when you believe it exists?"

"..." The traveler was stunned.

That's too short! It contains far too little information!

She frowned, pondered for a few seconds, and tentatively gave the most conventional answer: "Is it... a dream?"

“No…” Hator lowered her head slightly, her long hair falling down to obscure her expression, only her soft voice could be heard: “See you tomorrow, Miss Traveler. Good night.”